


By Monday

by huntthewicked



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Almost Kissing, Aside from the Wincest, Canon storyline, Character Death, F/M, M/M, No Smut, Sam's POV, Sexual Frustration, Spoilers if you haven't seen the Pilot, Tags Are Hard, The Past, The Smurfs - Freeform, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 08:40:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7708387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huntthewicked/pseuds/huntthewicked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pilot episode for the Wincest impaired. Lots of sexual frustration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By Monday

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure whether to continue this on to when the brothers actually get together again so let me know if you'd be interested in reading that.  
> I've always pictured them as falling in love as they grew up and getting separation anxiety through Stanford so this is that. Kinda. 
> 
> Enjoy and comment and gimme love :)

When Dean shows up all he can focus on is the smell. Woodsmoke and leather, motor oil and his cologne and the darkness underneath that Sam would be able to distinguish out of a million smells as Dean. Deeper still is danger and blood and death but he ignores that part, the part that isn't his Dean.

He's hanging over him, smelling so fucking good and laughing cockily with his mouth twisted more viciously then he remembers, that he has to fight not to lean up and smash his mouth into his brothers because if anything seemed like the fitting welcome back, this was it. It would get the sinister look out his eyes. 

But Jessica is in the other room and they haven't spoken for years and he can't go back repeating the past like it was an hour ago.

Agonising years apart and one look at Dean and it's like only yesterday they were playing footsy in the back of the Impala and miming old battles with little green army figures.

Except now Dean wants to be the army figures, shooting through skin and bone and laughing at the blood. It's been less then a minute but he knows something's changed deep in his DNA.

Dean hangs over him like a reminder that Sam really messed up this time, never wanted to leave his brother behind and now look what's happened. Wasted so much time telling himself that Jessica's blonde hair doesn't remind him of Dean's and when he's fucking her it isn't Dean he wishes was writhing, sweaty and naked under him.

With one quick sweep of his leg and a change in balance it's Dean on his back, looking up in amazement. 

This is the move they practised constantly in the backyards of rented houses and grass patches in front of decaying motels that Dean would always tell Sam to memorise and it became like their handshake and greeting because Dean would always leave that move wide open for Sam to shimmy into and flip positions.

Dean is amazed that Sam remembers a time when they weren't apart and sitting stubbornly by the phone, too anxious to make the first call in case they didn't like hearing what was on the other end.

"Or not" Dean huffs out and then

"Get off me" As Sam taps down in the sparring gesture that meant this was practice, we're okay, it's over. He wonders if he can say the same about the tension in the air.

Dean looks beautiful in the dark room. Spiked hair, wild from stress and his eyes are darting across the room like he can capture all the nights he's missed with one look at where most of them have been spent.

Under it all he resembles a caged animal, desperate to escape into the long stretch of night where no one questions a dead body.

Then the light's switched on and Jess is standing in the door frame, rubbing her eyes.

"Sam?" She murmurs tired and confused.

Dean's going to make a comment any second now because he can see the shirt. When they were younger the few times they got motels with coloured tvs or rentals with the owners stuff left in they'd watch the smurfs.

Dean used to joke that Sam was brainy smurf and clumsy smurf rolled into one and Sam would roll his big brown eyes and say pointedly that Dean was vanity smurf and that's much worse. Dean would smirk and push his brothers head playfully and almost always there would be a wrestling fight that Dean would definitely always let Sam win.

"I love the smurfs" He nods and smirks again, predatory, eying up Jess and Sam is hypersensitive that he's seeking out comparisons that stretch further then the hair.

Sam's mouth quirks uncomfortably and then they're talking about Dad and his first instinct is to push Dean out the window he crawled in through because how fucking dare he come in talking about John when he should be talking about how they've missed so much time.

Instead he possessively stands near Jess. It's a gesture to show Dean what's changed since that day he got on the bus and never looked back and a reminder to himself because this is where his loyalties lie now. He chose her.

But Dean is standing there, bowlegged and tired and warm and hard in all the right places and Sam wants to strip him down and mark out every scar he's gotten that Sam wasn't around to treat.

Jess stands over him as he packs, lazily making promises that she'll miss him and don't forget the interview on Monday.

Sam nods, gut twisted up as he thinks saying goodbye like that is the easy way out and he and Dean had much more courage when they refused to look each other in the eye and wouldn't say they'd miss each other at all.

What's that thing they say about an unnatural childhood effecting your adult life?

"I'll see you soon" Sam smiles, kisses her softly. She walks back into the other room and he quickly stuffs in a knife, gun and hook that he hid at the bottom of the unsuspecting draws of underwear.

Dean's still giving her a curious look when Sam reappears, duffle in hand like the old times. Packing quickly and cramming into the family car for a road trip of thrills. Kills.

They part, walking out the front door with Sam tripping over his words in haste to get closer to his brother, get closer to what made him come banging through the house at 3am like he owns the place. He owns what was inside and is now behind him, stumbling down the stairs like he hasn't climbed them drunk a hundred times.

It's infuriating, being this close without touching. Dean's infuriating, spouting the same crap as always that Dad was right, telling him about the evil and paranormal instead of allowing them the freedom of a normal life.

Sam swallows his complaints because this is not how they should be doing this, this is not the big reunion he envisioned all those restless nights. Then again, meeting in the Stanford library with Dean professing his love by spelling it out in book titles wasn't a likely situation.

He hadn't asked him to come so he hadn't followed, simple as that. He needs to stop obsessing over this like it isn't a simple hunt to find the asshole that Sam doesn't know he wants to find.

Same bullshit further along the road.

Sam stares at the stretch of his brothers stomach when he pulls the trunk up and admires the added muscle to his already defined chest. He remembers the bare skin panting hard against his night after night in dirty motel rooms left alone yet again.

"Sammy?" Dean smirks, waves his hand to get his attention and it takes everything in his power not to grab that hand and shove it where it needs to be.

"It's Sam" He replies instead.

 

*****

Hunting down a creature that feeds on men's infidelity isn't the best case, Sam thinks, distracted by the warmth of Dean's leg radiating onto his thigh. They're trying to interview the friends of the deceased, get intel, but Dean is pressed up against him and it's causing... feelings.

It's not the best case at all, he thinks, staring at the bow in Dean's upper lip and wondering if it tastes the same as it used to. Wondering if they could blow the entire hunt for a one bed motel room and a six pack of beer.

Is it cheating if you fantasise about someone else but don't act on it?

 

*****

"Dean I told you, I've gotta be back by Monday" Sam breathes out in an exhausted movement, begging his brother to realise that this is temporary. God knows he wishes it wasn't but he's made plans and he has to stick to them.

"Monday, right" He's pulling that small cocky half smile, how could I forget, but if Sam knows Dean like he thinks he does then he's been thinking about Monday more then is good for him.

"You're really serious about this aren't you" He says, fake smile and real bewilderment underneath because maybe their family is fucked to hell but he thought this would change things. Get them back.

The rest of the conversation passes like the water running under the bridge beneath them, hitting rocks and snags until Dean slams him against the bridge, grips his jacket and presses against him.

"Don't you talk about her like that" He growls, anger radiating off him in waves. It crashes into Sam and he's partly happy because this is the first time Dean's broken away from the façade he'd carefully constructed for this hunt. And he's trying to concentrate on the issue at hand but his brother is so close right now and all it would take is a kiss and they'd be back to normal. He can feel his brother breathing heavily against his lips and he's looking into the lust blown eyes and maybe he's imagining it but Dean wants him to. 

All it would take is a centimetre to close the space between them.

Dean's the one who can't see anything in Jess, not Sam. He needs to do this for Jess.

When they left Stanford last night he sensed the disruption in Dean's zen. On the verge of saying she wasn't good enough for him or he deserved better. That Jess was a poor imitation of Dean's weakest qualities and what made her so fucking special over him.

Sam's about to speak when the headlights blast full beam from across the bridge and they're running, just like the good old days when sprinting the fastest to outrun death was the most important thing.

Now it's exams and mid terms, papers and research.

"DEAN?" Sam yells, clinging onto the metal for dear life and searching the water frantically.

Down below Dean groans in anger, pulling himself onto the dirt and making a snarky comment, exhausted physically but grinning inside because his Sammy is back.

Sam feels the sinking in his gut, Dean caked in mud and dirty always was a strange kink. But he looks adorable so Sam laughs to cover the sexual frustration.

 

*****

Constance is lying over him, hand to his heart and it's fire running through his veins. Flickering in and out of the mortal realm and trying to kill an image of what killed her. Tales of adultery and abuse, all worthless now. Now he's trapped under her rage when he hasn't cheated on Jess at all.

Except for the bridge and the car and the constant unstoppable thoughts of lust and hope ever since Dean swaggered through his apartment.

It's so painful, getting his heart ripped out. But it's nothing like when he ripped it out himself by leaving Dean. He knows it was a mistake, his last thought is of Dean and how he never should have left.

A single shot.

"Sammy!" Dean yells, running for his Baby and the brother inside, firing his weapon at every blip of the ghost bitch.

He should be shrouded in a halo, basking in golden light because it's the millionth time he's appeared and made everything better. But it's up to him to finish the show, pull the curtains, so he slams the clutch down and foot down drives directly into the house. Sam knows Dean won't forgive him for the damage done to his car but it's nothing an ice cold beer at a roadhouse won't fix.

Hell, maybe the next town over they can start a prank war for old times sake. 

Monday doesn't even cross his mind as Constance sparks into a blue whirlwind of death and finality, he's thinking about how much he's missed doing this; mainly because of his brother who's wincing at the Impala.

 

*****

Until Monday. 

Sam repeated the two words every hour but Dean never thought the day would come when he'd be leaving for the second time.

The Impala growls and slides over compacted gravel, the moon sliding over the black metal and resting on the hood when the car creaked to a halt.

"Sam" Dean breathes, grits his teeth because he knows he shouldn't say what he's about to.

"Yeah" Sam checks the window where he knows Jess is waiting, looks away when he senses the pull of Dean's gaze.

Overall it's pride that stops Dean from asking his brother not to leave him again.

Pride and the big brother complex because Sam is doing good at college and it suits him. It just never did for Dean.

"Good luck" He nods and watches Sam's retreating back as he shoulders the bag and disappears into the red brick building.  
And when he finds Sam frozen in shock, staring at Jess's body burning on the ceiling, he isn't sorry.

Sure he's sad but only because Sam is. With her out the picture he knows he has his brother back.


End file.
